


Draw

by sciencefictioness



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alpha Jesse McCree, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Hanzo's Self Loathing As Always, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Hanzo Shimada, Possessive Hanzo Shimada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-16 18:09:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16958964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sciencefictioness/pseuds/sciencefictioness
Summary: Hanzo is looking down from above as always, crouched in the shadows on the edge of a rooftop.  He split off from the rest of the team as soon as the dropship landed, slinking into position— it’s not anything unusual that he doesn’t have a visual on them yet.  He’s got a view of the building they’re advancing towards, ready to pick off any surprise opposition that might come out to meet them, or pursue them when they leave.  It’s where he’s supposed to be, where he’ll do the most good.Hanzo flexes his jaw, and runs a palm over his throat. The skin there is damp, as though he’s been sweating even though it’s freezing outside, and he frowns and rubs absently at his mate marks.At the imprints of Jesse’s teeth, tattooed like a brand.  His mark isn’t a single bite like most alphas or omegas wear—  sunk neatly over their glands in a circle, the dynamic equivalent of a wedding ring.  Neither is Jesse’s.When Hanzo finally got his teeth into Jesse he savaged him and was savaged in kind.  He can still feel it when he closes his eyes, the euphoric sting of Jesse’s bite, the way the mate bond shivered into place.High waters held back for ages, flooding over them both, rushing to fill every space in him.





	1. Savagely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AngeNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/gifts).



It starts out as an itch.  

 

An uneasy feeling in his stomach, something unsettled shivering through his skin.

 

Nothing he’s ever felt before; coiling and hungry, threatening to build.

 

Or he has, but it’s been well over a decade, and Hanzo doesn’t recognize it at first.  It’s out of context, out of place. Something he only ever felt years ago in Hanamura, locked away in the dark of his room, biting his fist to keep quiet and praying no one noticed his scent.  A lot of things have changed since then, but one remains the same.

 

Prayers have never done Hanzo much good.

 

His hair blows into his face, bangs falling from his ponytail as the icy wind cuts into him; he shakes the loose strands out of the way, eyes roving, trying to take in everything at once.

 

Hanzo is looking down from above as always, crouched in the shadows on the edge of a rooftop.  He split off from the rest of the team as soon as the dropship landed, slinking into position— it’s not anything unusual that he doesn’t have a visual on them yet.  He’s got a view of the building they’re advancing towards, ready to pick off any surprise opposition that might come out to meet them, or pursue them when they leave.  It’s where he’s supposed to be, where he’ll do the most good.

 

That doesn’t stop his dragons from twisting in him, unhappy for reasons he can’t put his finger on, impatient like they want to break free.  Hanzo flexes his jaw, and runs a palm over his throat. The skin there is damp, as though he’s been sweating even though it’s freezing outside, and he frowns and rubs absently at his mate marks.

 

At the imprints of Jesse’s teeth, tattooed like a brand.  His mark isn’t a single bite like most alphas or omegas wear—  sunk neatly over their glands in a circle, the dynamic equivalent of a wedding ring.  Neither is Jesse’s.

 

When Hanzo finally got his teeth into Jesse he savaged him and was savaged in kind.  He can still feel it when he closes his eyes, the euphoric sting of Jesse’s bite, the way the mate bond shivered into place.

 

High waters held back for ages, flooding over them both, rushing to fill every space in him. Hanzo doesn’t deserve it.  Doesn’t deserve Jesse. 

 

Doesn’t deserve to be happy after everything he’d done; to his father, to himself.

 

To Genji.

 

But he could only fight the pull for so long.  Jesse is bright like the sun, and Hanzo is drawn in again and again, orbiting him endlessly.  Sooner or later something had to give, had to yield, had to break.

 

If there is anything Hanzo is good at, it’s breaking.

 

He spent his entire life railing against things.  Resisting Jesse always felt wrong, but Hanzo had done it anyway; out of habit, out of self-loathing.  The stubborn refusal to let himself have the things he wanted in life.

 

Hanzo belonged to Jesse for a long time, and both of them knew it; letting Jesse claim what had always been his was easier than Hanzo expected.

 

_ Got you, darlin’, I got you,  _ and Hanzo went boneless, and let him take it all.

 

Now Hanzo’s throat is littered with marks that will never heal, and he’s glad.

 

Hanzo wants to wear them forever.  Wants  _ Jesse  _  to wear them forever.  Wants people to look at him, and know that he is Hanzo’s.  

 

He may not deserve Jesse, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let anyone else have him.  He traces the curve of Jesse’s teeth with his fingertips, lets them linger where the marks overlap.  They’re slick and sore in a way that should give him pause, but Hanzo can’t focus on it right now.

 

A couple of hours have passed since he arrived.  Hanzo has been tracking enemy movement, reporting their activity, keeping an eye out for anything unusual.  Everything seems to line up with their intelligence, but Hanzo can’t stop running his hand across the grip on his bow; back and forth, again and again.  Restless.

 

When he finally sees the team come into view it should settle his nerves, but it doesn’t.  Jesse takes point; dos Santos is there behind him, along with Mercy, and Hana in her mech. Genji is nowhere to be seen, lurking somewhere on the other side of building and creeping in alone.  Any trepidation Hanzo felt about having his brother fight battles without backup was beaten out of him by Sojiro a long time ago.

 

Gangsters, then assassins, and now vigilantes— different worlds, always a soldier.

 

Genji will be fine.

 

It’s Jesse Hanzo can’t pull his eyes away from.  

 

He pushes closer to the edge of the roof, breath coming faster for no reason at all, eyes aching in that way they only do when they’re lighting up against his will.  It’s rarely an issue unless he’s in the midst of an intense fight, but it’s definitely a liability out here; he doesn’t need to draw any attention to himself. Hanzo tries to blink it away to no avail, watching his allies get into position; Hana is lingering back from main entrance with Mercy while Jesse and dos Santos flatten themselves against either side of the door, talking to one another in low voices.  

 

Hanzo stares, more uncomfortable with every passing moment.  He’s too hot, especially considering that his breath is fogging in the air, and the ice clinging to everything around him.  There’s snow on the ground, still falling in delicate little flurries. They land on his flushed cheeks, pinpricks of blessed cool where he’s covered in a sheen of sweat.  His teeth ache; his jaw, his wrists, the bones in his hips protesting like he’s taken a fall of some kind. Jesse’s lips move, and Hanzo is too far away to hear, but the comm in his ear feeds him the words.

 

“We good to to, L?”

 

When he hears Jesse’s voice Hanzo can’t bite back a whine.  

 

It’s high and needy, a pathetic sound; nothing that’s ever passed his lips in public before.

 

One he makes in the privacy of his quarters with Jesse, and nowhere else.  He knows it must have registered in his earpiece when he sees Jesse frown, eyes darting up to Hanzo’s position with his brows furrowed.  

 

“Hanzo, you good?”  Jesse asks, and Hanzo swallows, and shakes his head to try and clear some of the fog that’s taken up residence there.  It doesn’t work, but he isn’t about to stop the mission just because he’s not feeling well.

 

If he can fight his father one handed, bleeding from a dozen wounds with his vision going black, he can fight through this.  

 

Hanzo isn’t dying, so everything is fine. 

 

“Sitting pretty,” he says, because he knows it will make Jesse smile, will keep him from pressing for further affirmation.  It works so well Hanzo almost feels guilty; Jesse grins, tipping his hat up in Hanzo’s general direction with a wink and a nod.

 

“Alright then.  We’ll move in on my mark.  L?”

 

A robotic voice comes through the earpiece, quiet and unassuming.

 

“Everything seems to be in order.  Proceed as planned.”

 

Then Hanzo sees a flash of red emerging from the mouth of a nearby alley.  A Talon agent on patrol, coming around the corner, and they’ve barely taken a step towards Jesse and the others before they’re on the ground, motionless with an arrow sticking out of their throat.  Hanzo doesn’t remember drawing, or aiming, or firing.

 

He is lying in wait one moment, and taking a life the next.  He breathes in, lets it out slow. His eyes are still glowing.  His heart is pounding hard, as though he’s been running for miles.  His fingernails hurt; distantly he realizes how bad that is, how dangerous, but in the moment all he can feel is fury, irrational and unhinged.

 

There are mercenaries inside that building, and Jesse is about to run headfirst into them.  An image swims up in Hanzo’s mind, some faceless Talon agent pointing a gun at Jesse. His lip curls in snarl.  

 

The idea that people would try to hurt Jesse is abruptly repugnant, and something animal in Hanzo roils, and swells.  It is all he can do to stay in position when his instincts are screaming for him to jump to the ground.

 

To stand between Jesse and their enemies and protect him by any means necessary; with his bow, and his claws, and his teeth.  It is all Hanzo is good for anymore— keeping people safe.

 

Keeping Jesse safe.

 

He swallows the urge down through sheer force of will and watches Jesse and the others slip inside, leaving only Hana and Hanzo behind to guard the perimeter.  

 

Jesse disappears from his sight, and his reaction is instantaneous.

 

There is a beast roaring in Hanzo’s ears.  A drum beating in his chest, a fire burning in his skin.  He can’t get enough air in his lungs, and something wet drips down his neck; slipping over his collarbones, soaking into his clothes.  Jesse’s teeth in his throat are pulsing in time with the blood in his veins, glands throbbing and inflamed.

 

A gunshot sounds out from inside the building; muffled, dissonant, and Hanzo isn’t on the roof anymore.  

 

He leaps from the building, landing in a crouch in front of it with a heavy thud— bow in one hand, his other palm flat on the concrete to keep him steady.  Hana’s voice is in his ear, but miles away,  _ what are you doing Hanzo? _

 

Hanzo doesn’t know.  There is no awareness, no conscious intent.

 

There is only Jesse, and Hanzo, and all the walls between them.  He is inside the building in a matter of seconds, running on instinct and adrenaline.  It’s all that he is, and it swarms through his body, and eats him alive. 

 

A pair of Talon agents come stomping out of hallway on his left, and Hanzo has arrows in them before they even know he’s there.  Jesse, Lucio, and Mercy are moving stealthily, evading notice, but there is nothing stealthy about Hanzo right now; he’s snarling, and loud, and he doesn’t care.

 

He has to get to Jesse, has to get there  _ now.   _ A third mercenary comes up from his right, too close for Hanzo to get off a shot, up in his space in an instant.  Hanzo kicks them in the chest to push him backwards, and then pulls out an arrow, and shoves the tip into their eye socket.  Pushes, sinking it in deep, watching them shake, and still. Blood splashes over his face, and Hanzo wipes it out of his eyes, licks it off his bottom lip.  It isn’t disgusting like it would be for most people— Hanzo isn’t exactly a person, right now. His teeth are too long, and his nails are too sharp, and his eyes hum with ethereal light as stalks down the hallways after Jesse.

 

Not a man.

 

A dragon.

 

-

 

When he storms into the room Jesse, Lucio, and Mercy are clearing, they all have their weapons high, pointed right at him and ready to fire.  They drop them quickly, frowning at him in confusion, but not surprise. Hana must have told them he was in the building, but Hanzo didn’t hear any of it past the ringing in his ears, or the raucous white-noise of his dragons.  Jesse holsters Peacekeeper, taking a step towards Hanzo with worry written across his face.

 

“Hanzo what happened?  Hana said-”

 

Jesse’s words are cut off when Hanzo slams into him, pressing him into a nearby wall, face shoved into his throat.  He breathes in, nose brushing over the ragged scars of Jesse’s mate marks, and some of the tension seeps out of him.  Jesse is here. Jesse is safe. Hanzo can feel the metal of Jesse’s fingers sifting through his hair, then settling over his throat.  They feel good there; it’s where they’re supposed to be, over his marks, warm and possessive. Hanzo tilts his head to the side to give Jesse room, purring low and animal in his chest.  Jesse inhales, and lets it out in a rush, tugging Hanzo closer with a rumbling croon.

 

“Oh Hanzo,” he says, apologetic almost, “thought you was on suppressants, baby.”

 

Hanzo doesn’t know what Jesse is talking about.  Of  _ course  _ he is on suppressants.  

 

A heat would be nothing but an inconvenience even if they weren’t living as vigilantes, fighting mercenaries and gangs and stray yakuza. Hanzo is diligent when it comes to taking the cocktail of hormones that keeps his cycle in check.  Mercy increased his dosage when he and Jesse got together, insisting that a mated omega needed something more powerful than an unmated one, and Hanzo hadn’t argued.

 

He hadn’t gone through a heat since before Sojiro had died, and he wasn’t eager to start again now.  Just the thought of it made him feel sick, made him want to gnash his teeth.

 

The Shimada clan had been a merciless place for omegas, even those of Hanzo’s standing.  He is in a better place now, surrounded by better people, but Hanzo still wears the scars under his skin.  

 

There is also Jesse to consider.  Jesse loves Hanzo. Hanzo knows he does; can feel it, and scent it, and taste it, but loving Hanzo and wanting to spend a heat with him are two different things entirely.

 

Hanzo isn’t the kind of omega anyone wants to keep forever, in spite of what the marks on his throat might imply.  

 

“I  _ am  _ on suppressants,” Hanzo murmurs, the annoyance obvious in his voice.  He scrapes his teeth over Jesse’s scent glands, running his tongue over them with an appreciative moan.  

 

It tastes like Jesse— like alpha, like safety.

 

Like home.

 

Hanzo has forgotten there is anyone else in the room when they speak.

 

“I think perhaps we need to reevaluate his treatment when we get back to base.  For now we should retreat and regroup. Hanzo isn’t in any condition to fight,” Mercy says, and she’s close.  Too close for Hanzo’s liking, and he turns towards her and snarls. She blinks at him, one eyebrow cocking up in wry amusement as though he’s doing something funny, but Hanzo isn’t  _ joking.   _ Snarls again, the sound vibrating through the room, rattling deep in his chest.

 

“Hey, hey, let’s calm down,” Lucio says as he steps forward, palms raised as though to calm Hanzo, but it has the opposite effect.

 

Both Mercy and Lucio are omegas, and even the mate mark on Lucio’s throat doesn’t quell the vicious wave of aggression that is taking Hanzo over bit by bit.   He bares his teeth, growl ratcheting up louder, fist clenched tight around the grip of his bow. Jesse’s hand closes over Hanzo’s throat again, and he goes still, but doesn’t back down.

 

“Easy, darlin’, easy,” Jesse coaxes, pulling Hanzo back until he can get an arm around his chest to hold him in place.  “It’s okay, yeah? They ain’t interested in me like that and you know it. That’s just your heat talkin’.”

 

Hanzo scoffs, eyes so bright he can see the light on Mercy and Lucio’s face, eerie blue painting their features.

 

“I’m not in  _ heat,”  _ Hanzo spits, ready to argue further, but he doesn’t get the chance.

 

The doors on either side of the room come crashing open; a team of Talon mercenaries pour in from the left, and Genji slides in from the right, blood shimmering on his blade.  Hanzo sees the red of a laser sight land on Jesse’s chest; directly over his heart, a wordless threat.

 

Then  _ everything  _ is red, and Hanzo is running.

 

His team is speaking to him, but he can’t make out what they’re saying.  None of it is important, not when people are trying to fire weapons at his alpha, and Hanzo rolls over their enemies like a storm.  

 

He snaps a Talon agent’s neck with his bow and lets them fall to the ground like a broken doll.  Knocks out a second, and a third, but then his bow is not good enough, not punishing enough.

 

These people are trying to hurt his mate, and they deserve to suffer for it.

 

There is blood under his claws and in his mouth and on his hands as the mercenaries drop one by one.  Everything is a blur of crimson, and when Hanzo comes back to himself he’s panting, surrounded by a mangled assortment of Talon armor, gore splattered over his clothes.  The rest of the team is staring at him wide-eyed in various stages of shock.

 

Everyone but Genji.

 

“What was that you said about being in no condition to fight?” Genji says, laughter in his voice.

 

“Heating omegas are usually significantly less… volatile,” Mercy hedges.  Lucio snorts.

 

“Is that what we’re going with?  ‘Volatile’?”

 

Hanzo picks up his bow and crosses the room, a growl still rumbling in his throat as he shoves Jesse a half-dozen paces away from everyone else; it’s ridiculous.  Genji and Lucio are mated, even if their mates aren’t immediately present. Angela is utterly uninterested in Jesse. He knows, with some logical part of his brain, that none of them pose a threat to him where Jesse is concerned.

 

Hanzo isn’t feeling particularly logical right now. 

 

He lifts up on his toes and rubs his face into Jesse’s throat, hands sinking into his hair to hold him in place.  Jesse laughs fond and low, one palm wrapped around the back of Hanzo’s neck, squeezing slightly. It’s not Jesse’s teeth— it won’t scruff him, but the implication is clear enough to have Hanzo’s eyes going lidded.  Not that he’s ever truly been scruffed with Jesse before; Jesse’s bitten him there, and it’s relaxing. Makes him go loose and calm when they’re fucking, draws the tension out of Hanzo when Jesse digs in deep, but an omega has to be in heat to feel the full effects of an alpha’s scruff.

 

Like Hanzo is now.

 

The realization has panic flaring for a moment, knee-jerk and vestigial.  

 

Hanzo is in Hanamura again.  He is laying on his futon in the weeks leading up to his first cycle, hurting in places he’s never hurt, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry.

 

He is kneeling in the temple in the traditional robes of an omega, sitting up straight, eyes wide and wet as the elders recite the words of the dedication ceremony.  It’s outdated, like so many of the things they do, but no less inescapable; declaring him for the Shimada clan as though it’s some kind of privilege to serve.

 

To be owned, even as he’s expected to lead.

 

Hanzo is in the dark of his room, hands shaking as he reaches between his thighs and they come back slick and shining.

 

Hanzo is alone, and aching, shutting himself in the closet to hide.

 

Hanzo is broken, just by existing the way he’s been born.

 

Except Hanzo isn’t in Hanamura, isn’t alone, isn’t broken.

 

Jesse is here, pulling Hanzo’s face up with both hands, his own eyes shining alpha bright.  Every alpha is different, but usually when someone has brown eyes, they light up some shade of golden with emotion.

 

Jesse’s are vivid red, and the sight of it has Hanzo breathing again when he hadn’t meant to stop in the first place.

 

“Hey, there you are, sweetheart.  Back with me?” Jesse’s thumbs rub back and forth across Hanzo’s cheekbones, and he nods; not entirely present, but close enough, and Jesse continues.  “Listen, you’re already in heat, and nothin’ Angie gives you is gonna suppress it now. We can give you some sedatives it you want, when we get back, let you sleep off the worst of it.  But we gotta get this intel first, clear out the rest of this outpost. Think you can help us do that without running into another fight all by yourself, or do we need to get you back to the dropship?”

 

There was so much wrong with Jesse’s words that Hanzo didn’t know where to start.  Couldn’t make his mouth work. He wasn’t leaving Jesse, wasn’t going to the ship without him.

 

Certainly wasn’t spending his heat alone, drugged on sedatives and in agony, locked in medical away from his mate.  

 

Hanzo lets his hand fall from Jesse’s hair to fist in his serape, and growls again.  His gums throb as he bares his teeth, so long in his mouth now that his jaw doesn’t want to close right.  Jesse laughs, tracing one of Hanzo’s inhuman canines with a fingertip.

 

“Alright, alright, I get it.  I ain’t gonna try and wrangle you back to the transport, but I can’t help you in a fight like I want when you storm in all wild like that.  You gotta stay with me, okay?”

 

Hanzo nods, leaning into Jesse’s palm on his cheek, purring now instead of snarling.

 

Staying with Jesse is easy.  He can do that just fine.

 

-

 

Staying with Jesse is impossible.  

 

Talon comes at them, and points their guns at Jesse, and Hanzo can do nothing but raze them to the ground.  Genji keeps up with him— they spent most of their lives fighting alongside each other, and even being apart for a decade can’t erase the muscle memory of it.  They fall into place around one another as they always have, and Genji picks up Hanzo’s slack when he drops his guard, when he’s careless, all his staunch precision lost in the sway of anger.

 

It would be easier if Hanzo wasn’t snapping at the rest of his team in between waves of enemies, blue eyed and feral, long past being able to speak.  His heat is rising higher and higher in him, but the warmth in his skin and the need building between his thighs are both secondary to the driving urge to keep Jesse safe.

 

When they finally get back to the dropship Genji is teasing him; Hanzo can tell by the lilt in his voice, even if the meaning of what he’s saying is beyond Hanzo right then.  He growls and shoves Jesse into a seat, crawling into his lap and straddling him. Everything feels better like this, Jesse’s arms curling around his back, everyone else keeping their distance as they filter past towards the front of the transport.

 

“Shhhh, easy now, baby, it’s okay.”  Hanzo only notices he’s whining when he swallows the noise, face tucked into Jesse’s neck, lapping idly at the wet expanse of his scent glands.  “We’ll be back on base soon, get you squared away.”

 

Hanzo nods, and sinks his teeth into Jesse’s throat, deep enough that Jesse hisses.  He tenses, and then slowly relaxes into the feeling, which is for the best; Hanzo keeps them latched snugly there and closes his eyes, settling in for the ride home.


	2. Take

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for intersex omega biology.

The fight Jesse puts up to leave Hanzo in medical for the duration of his heat is perfunctory at best.  Hanzo doesn’t want to be separated from him, and for all his bluster, he doubts Jesse would be physically capable of walking away from him with now.  

 

They’re mates.  They’ve never shared one of Hanzo’s heats, and there are several other alphas milling around on base; Genji, Gabriel, Hana.  Ana is gone, but she could be back any time. All it takes is Angela saying that Hanzo’s medical files list Jesse as his only authorized heat partner, and Jesse scoops Hanzo up in his arms and carries him away.

 

His teeth have receded into something almost normal after a couple of hours breathing in Jesse’s scent, and his eyes are only humming with the faintest hint of light.  Now that Jesse is safe Hanzo’s fury has ebbed back to leave want in its wake. He twists unhappily in Jesse’s hold, making breathy noises, trying to press closer. There’s slick soaking into his clothes, and he rubs his thighs together, and scratches impatiently at Jesse’s chest.  Nails, not claws, and Jesse should be grateful because Hanzo isn’t aware he’s doing it.

 

Jesse  makes soothing sounds and noses into his hair, holding him a little tighter when they pass someone in the hallways.  He doesn’t growl— Jesse has always been laid back as alphas go, but even if he wasn’t, Hanzo is growling enough for the both of them.  It surges up anytime Hanzo catches another person’s scent, because with his face rubbing at Jesse’s throat he can’t actually see much of anything.  The other agents who happen by give them a wide berth. The smell of Hanzo’s heat might ordinarily draw them in, but the animalistic sounds he’s making are loud and unmistakable, and Jesse nips Hanzo’s neck softly in rebuke.

 

“Hush now,” he chides, and Hanzo huffs, and ignores him.  

 

They’re too close, and he’ll growl all he likes.

 

When they get to their quarters Jesse locks the door behind them and continues on straight to the bathroom.  After some awkward shuffling on Jesse’s part Hanzo hears the water running and groans in frustration— he doesn’t want to shower right now, he wants Jesse—   _ needs  _ Jesse.  His cock is hard, his slit throbbing.  It hurts, being so empty with his mate here, and Hanzo starts pawing at Jesse’s clothes.

 

“Need you to fuck me,” Hanzo says, but then realizes that isn’t quite right as he frantically tries to get at Jesse’s cock through his jeans, “need you to  _ knot me.   _ Now.”  He fumbles with Jesse’s belt buckle as he’s set down on his feet, and Jesse grabs his wrists, and eases them away.

 

“Gotta get you cleaned up, baby.  Can’t be doing the kind of things I wanna do to you with both of us like this.”

 

He starts working Hanzo’s clothes off with quick motions, kicking his own shoes off into the corner, and Jesse is right; they’re both filthy.  Jesse smells like sweat and gunpowder and dirt, and Hanzo is covered in splashes of dried blood. His hands, his clothes, his face. His hair is matted with it, sticking to his neck in places, most of the strands long since fallen out of his ribbon.  They both need a shower, desperately.

 

Still, Hanzo can’t stop himself from palming Jesse’s cock, from plastering his body against Jesse’s, tugging at his shirt with a frustrated hiss.  He claws at him, tries to climb Jesse like a tree, the armor on his legs making Jesse grunt in pain as it cuts into his thighs.

 

“Darlin’, let me get this all off you, c’mon,” Jesse pleads, trying to extricate Hanzo from his arms to no avail.

 

Hanzo wants to cooperate; the faster he’s clean, the faster Jesse can knot him and ease the agonizing hunger that’s overtaking him.  But he can’t stop touching Jesse, can’t stop snapping at his throat, or struggling to get at the skin under his chest plate. Hanzo’s hands shake.  The growl pouring out of his throat is less aggressive now, laced with a whine; a mournful, frantic sound. His eyes feel wet, stuttering bright with light, teeth sore in his gums.

 

Trying to grow again, as though he can get what he needs if only they’re long enough, sharp enough.

 

Buried deep enough in Jesse’s neck.  Hanzo tastes blood, and Jesse, and shivers so hard it hurts his bones.

 

Jesse rubs at Hanzo’s jaw until he releases the bite he’s sunk into the curve of Jesse’s shoulder.  Wrestles him off, and gets a fist in his hair— tugging, gentle but insistent, crooning deep in his chest.  Hanzo doesn’t realize what Jesse’s trying to do until there are sharp teeth pressing into the back of his neck.  A wordless threat— a promise, and Hanzo nods his head even as he’s fighting Jesse’s hold on him.

 

“Do it,  _ do it,”  _ he begs, shocked at his own eagerness, and then Jesse bites hard into the sensitive skin on the back of Hanzo’s throat.

 

Hanzo moans, and trembles, and goes limp all at once.  Jesse catches him before he falls to the ground, and cradles him gently, Hanzo liquid and pliant against his chest.  

 

Once upon a time being scruffed was something straight out of Hanzo’s nightmares.  Being helpless, unable to move, to fight back. 

 

Being put right where some alpha wanted him, and  _ used. _

 

This is nothing like that, and every instinct Hanzo possesses knows it.  There is a pause, some maneuvering on Jesse’s part, and then he sits on the side of the tub and cups Hanzo’s cheek. Hanzo’s head lolls as he feebly leans into the touch, throat bared automatically.

 

“Oh, look at you.  Gorgeous,” Jesse murmurs, and Hanzo can barely open his eyes.  His lashes flutter as he glances up at him, drugged and hazy; Jesse has always made him feel safe, but this is another level entirely.  Hanzo can’t move, can’t speak. Can’t put together a coherent thought past  _ Jesse  _ and  _ mine  _ and  _ need,  _ but it doesn’t matter right now.  Nothing matters besides all the places Jesse’s skin is pressed against his, the warm palm on his face, the dark eyes drinking him in.  “You okay there, dollface?”

 

Hanzo is more than okay.  

 

Hanzo is floating in formless euphoria, blissful like he’s never felt, but he can’t answer Jesse with words.  He makes a breathy noise. Tilts his head to expose his throat a little more, and spreads his thighs some, but the effort it takes is staggering.  He whines. 

 

It must be enough; Jesse leans down and kisses the corner of his mouth, and brushes the hair out of his eyes.

 

“Okay, I gotcha.  Lemme get us cleaned up, then we can take care of you, yeah?”  Hanzo blinks twice, lids heavy and slow, and hopes Jesse understands.  “Yeah, alright.”

 

Jesse unlatches Hanzo’s leg armor and lets it drop to the floor.  Takes off his clothes, his belt, his gloves. Works the ribbon out of his hair, careful not to pull, fingers meticulous in the strands.  Hanzo’s heat is still there, welling up under his skin, but the scruff has taken the sting off its edges. He wants, wants,  _ wants—  _ but as long as Jesse has him he can wait.  

 

He spends most of the bath in a fog.  Jesse washes them both, careful not to get soap in Hanzo’s eyes, painstakingly cautious as he cleans his skin and shampoos his hair.  He drains the tub once and rinses Hanzo off before refilling it, pristine warm water rippling around them as the effects of the scruff slowly begin to fade.  Hanzo arches against Jesse as best he can, rolling his hips in Jesse’s lap, knees falling wide. An invitation, or as much of one as he can muster right now.

 

Jesse mouths at Hanzo’s throat, hand dragging up his thigh and slipping behind his sac to palm his slit.  

 

“Can you tell me what you want yet, baby?”  

 

Jesse’s hand on his sex is a blaze of sensation.

 

Hanzo’s clumsy fingers fumble over Jesse’s own and press them inside the scorching heat of his cunt.  It’s so good his jaw falls open, eyes rolling back for a moment, glands on his neck pulsing wet with oil.  He mewls and rocks down onto Jesse’s hand, water sloshing out of the tub as he fucks himself on Jesse’s touch.  Shallow little twitches, feet slipping on the ceramic underneath them— he’s trying so hard to get what he wants, and Jesse hums fondly into his skin. 

 

“It’s okay, I got you.  Feels good? You like that?”

 

Hanzo nods, the scruff falling away faster as Jesse works him, his body obeying him more readily.  He reaches behind himself to clutch at Jesse’s hair, hand closing around his forearm to keep him from pulling away.  Jesse’s fingers press deep, sliding in smooth and curling before he draws them out again. It’s not the kind of stretch Hanzo really needs, not the thick, fat swell of his knot, but it’s enough to have him jerking in Jesse’s arms as his climax builds.

 

_ “Jesse.” _

 

Jesse kisses his mate marks, scraping his teeth across them, the metal of his prosthetic splayed over Hanzo’s abdomen to keep him in place.  His heat rises, and Hanzo holds his breath, and clenches his teeth. It’s frightening just how powerful the sensation is, rolling through Hanzo like a wave— nothing like a normal orgasm.

 

Something primal and vicious that he hasn’t felt in years and years.

 

Something that has never felt right like it does now, with Jesse’s scent in his nose and Jesse’s face in his throat, fingers pulling the bliss out of Hanzo like he’s coaxing a flame to life.

 

“That’s it sweetheart, there you go.”

 

Jesse knows Hanzo is coming before Hanzo does; it erupts from him all at once, and Jesse croons and eases him through it.  Hanzo whines, and shivers, clenching around Jesse’s fingers like his body is trying to keep them there. There’s a ringing in his ears, and everything is muted and faraway as Jesse withdraws his hand and pulls the plug to drain the tub.  

 

The drunk pliancy of the scruff is nothing but a memory now, and Hanzo’s heat has grown teeth of its own in the wake of his climax.  He turns in Jesse’s arms, clutching and huffing— he wants Jesse’s fingers back, wants his cock, wants  _ something.   _ Hanzo’s cunt aches with need, and he growls in frustration as Jesse picks him up and lifts him out of the water.

 

“Jesse, Jesse, I-”

 

“Shhh, I know,” Jesse says, cutting him off; Hanzo snarls, and bites into his shoulder.  He  _ doesn’t  _ know, he  _ can’t  _ know.

 

If Jesse knew what Hanzo was feeling he’d be buried in him already, knotted tight and filling him with come to soothe the pain away.  Jesse doesn’t react other than a quiet hiss and a flinch— just brushes Hanzo’s wet hair out of his eyes before grabbing a towel and wrapping it haphazardly around him.  It rasps against his skin, and Hanzo wants it  _ off. _

 

He carries Hanzo out of the bathroom and climbs onto the bed, depositing him in the mess of sheets and blankets.  It’s more effort this time, massaging Hanzo’s jaws, getting him to release the meat of Jesse’s throat from his teeth.  

 

“Come on beautiful.  Open up, that’s the way.”

 

The soft drawl combined with his strong fingers rubbing at Hanzo’s cheek is enough to have Hanzo letting go this time as well.  He sits up and reaches towards Hanzo— like he’s going to grab hold of the towel and dry them off, maybe— but whatever his intention he doesn’t get the chance.

 

Hanzo flips them, straddling Jesse in one smooth motion.  Jesse grabs his hips automatically, and Hanzo rolls them sinuously, the wet folds of his slit parting around Jesse’s length as he grinds against it.  He’s dripping slick— it’s obvious now that they’re out of the water of the bath— and Hanzo’s cunt slips messy up and down Jesse’s cock. His palms are flat on Jesse’s chest, and he slides one lower to get a hand around Jesse.  Nudges Jesse’s crown into him, sinking down onto his cock with a whine, lip curling up from his teeth.

 

It’s perfect; everything he’s craving.

 

Well.  Not quite everything, but Jesse’s knot is already threatening at the base of his shaft, and Hanzo will have it where he wants it soon enough.

 

He throws his head back, reveling in the stretch, the way Jesse’s cock is almost too much for him even in the throes of a heat.  Too much for Hanzo to close his fingers all the way around, and normally they would take their time coaxing him open, Jesse pressing into him in by inch. 

 

_ Easy, baby, easy, take your time. _

 

Right now Hanzo doesn’t need any of that careful preparation.

 

Right now Hanzo is made to take him, knot and all.  A fresh rush of slick pulses out of him, dripping over the inside of his thighs.  Hanzo’s cock is hard— on the small side as most omegas are, uncut and curving up towards his belly.  It’s an afterthought at best; it fits in his hand when he palms himself, and Hanzo lets out harsh breath, but the sensation pales in comparison to the feeling of Jesse rutting up into him.

 

Jesse rumbles out another croon— a deep, purring sound— and relaxes into the pillows, palms dropping to Hanzo’s thighs.  His eyes glow crimson, lids heavy as he watches Hanzo move in his lap, bending his knees to give Hanzo more leverage. It’s lazy, and languid; Jesse is in no hurry to take over.  

 

Most alphas would pin Hanzo down whether he liked it or not, and take what they wanted from him.  Put him on his hands and knees, press his face into the floor. Scruff him if he fought, then twist him into place.  Hanzo knows. 

 

Hanzo  _ remembers. _

 

Even between mates a heat is usually an omega following their alphas lead, but Jesse is not like most alphas.

 

Jesse is just Jesse, and he rakes his eyes over Hanzo, and lets him have free reign.  Runs his hands leisurely up Hanzo’s thighs, rubs at his chest, pets over his belly. Scratches his fingers through the dark curls there, and watches Hanzo ride him with increasing desperation.  Harder, and faster, hips rocking and breathing frantic. He’s flushed, damp hair sticking to his neck and shoulders, oil shining over the glands on his throat.

 

Hanzo needs more, needs all of Jesse, right now.

 

The praise Jesse murmurs is familiar; the same things he always says,  _ perfect, darlin’, you’re doin’ so good. _

 

_ Gorgeous, baby.  Take it all, just like that. _

 

Jesse’s knot is larger each time Hanzo sinks down on it, starting to catch, stretching him further with every thrust.  There is no climax for him to chase this time, not with Jesse splitting him open, thicker inside Hanzo than ever before.  That’s not how it works during a heat.

 

Jesse bucks up into him, shuddering as his knot thickens and settles into place.  Locks them together, and as soon as that first burst of warmth fills Hanzo, he is coming again.

 

Coming, and coming, and it goes on for so long that Hanzo sees white spots in his vision.  His hearing fades for a while, like there is cotton in his ears.

 

When he comes back to himself this time Jesse is still buried snugly inside him, knot keeping Hanzo’s heat at bay, running his hands up and down Hanzo’s back.  There is still heat surging into him— Jesse is still climaxing. Will be, as long as he is knotted. His eyes hum a rusty red, and he shivers, palming Hanzo’s ass.  Easy, possessive.

 

Effortless, like Hanzo has always belonged to him.

 

“Alright, baby?”

 

Hanzo nods, and nuzzles into Jesse’s chest, sleepy now that he’s satisfied.  For the moment, at least. He kind of wants to bite into Jesse’s throat again, but can’t reach it without pulling on Jesse’s knot, so this will have to be enough.

 

Jesse kisses his hair, and wraps his arms around him.

 

“Alright.”

 

His croon lulls Hanzo’s eyes closed, and he sighs, and lets himself drift.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me nice things.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me nice things <3


End file.
